And the sun was behind his head
And it was much later than he thought
And he thought that he had nothing more to say
And he did not know whether he should
And he thought that he would anyway
And the sun was inside his eyes
And he tried to imagine where the day before that day had gone
And it smelled of turpentine
And it smelled of disinfectant
And he cut his finger on its edge
And he sucked it
And for a moment he tasted what was inside him
And then he closed his eyes
And he saw that he was wrong
And there was a shadow of a sky
And it lay across the brown field
And all the doors stood wide open
And the sound of water came out
And he understood that what was inside him would always make the sound of blood.
Kobus Moolman is an award-winning South African poet and playwright. He teaches creative writing at the University of KwaZulu-Natal in Durban.
Photo from Flickr Creative Commons
